I Need A Falcon

"Get out of here you filthy, disease riddled bastard!" Not, it has to be admitted, the first time I have heard those words but it is the first time I have had to say them. Things are getting a little awkward at Chez Neil with the great outdoors showing an increasing propensity to become part of the great indoors. The latest to blur the boundary between civilisation and the untamed wild is a pair of pigeons who have decided that the top of my bookcase makes as excellent roosting spot and, by corollary, that my floor and furniture are perfect things upon which to shit.

My neighbours are of no assistance in helping me deal with this avian assault. When they hear incoherent shrieks of horror and outrage emanating from my flat they just figure its another Saturday night. As for the collection of plush toys which I once foolishly thought might help me defend my humble abode. They have crawled into corners as far from the incontinent marauders as they can get.

I think what really gets me is their sheer brazenness. I lurch into my loungeroom shrieking and waving my arms wildly. If there are pigeons present they rise in their own time and casually flap outside but they don't leave. They sit on my balcony railing waiting for me to get out of their lounge room. If I pursue my offensive outside they fly precisely two feet up into the air, sit on my gutter and again wait for me to get out of their way. Which, being a busy person and not wanting to break down into frustrated tears in front of a pigeon, I eventually do.

All of this really came to a head yesterday. After a long day selflessly sacrificing my health and sanity for the benefit of my employers I stumbled home tired and traumatised. I lurched in the door, dropped my bag, waved hello to the pigeons and shambled into the kitchen for a drink. What the fuck! I retraced my steps and yes there they were; two pigeons sitting on top of my bookcase looking down with calm politeness as I had a minor meltdown.  I don't know how they got in. I had to open a window and a door so that they could get out. Once I had managed to evict them (and after several hours indoors they were understandably reluctant to leave) I then spent the next half an hour on my hands and knees dealing with the inevitable consequences of having a couple of pigeons indoors for several hours. If I'd waited any longer I could have opened a phophate mine.

The pigeons must go. I need something sharp of eye, cruel of beak and vicious of claw and fortunately I know where to get it. Sixty floors up on the office building I am increasingly inclined to call home (if only because of the relative absence of pigeons) there is a falcon. This alone is sufficient to explain said pigeon absence. It swoops down from its lofty height, talons outstretched and feeds on lesser breeds with cruel gusto. "Lesser breeds" being loosely defined as "those who didn't get out of the way quickly enough". A quick conversation or two along the lines of "plenty of delicious pigeons" should be enough to persuade it to relocate.

I can't wait to see the look on the pigeon's faces when they shoulder their way into my apartment to find them caught in a falcon's predatory gaze. It will be carnage. Of course then I have to pick up bits of mutilated pigeon but I only have to do it once, or at least once per pigeon. My pigeon problems are soon going to be a thing of the past. Only one question remains. Does anybody know how to get rid of a falcon?